The Search for Chuck
by Amethyst M
Summary: Sam and Dean go looking for Chuck. Part of my Super!Sam alternate universe. Spoilers for season 5-7. Story #4 in my AU series.


The Search for Chuck

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just borrowing them for a bit. Don't worry, I will put them back.

Kripke's Hollow was a small town in northeastern Ohio. In the town was a modest house, which really was a shack. It was old, small, and badly in need of a paint job. The grass had started to grow around it, as if no one had mowed the lawn in months.

It was early evening as the black Impala pulled into the driveway. Sam wore a fake moustache, a baseball cap, and a pair of really thick fake nerd glasses. Dean wasn't as recognizable. He had started to grow a real beard; it was pretty scraggly at the moment. He also wore a baseball cap.

The disguised Winchester brothers got out of the car. Dean went up and rang the doorbell. There was no response.

"Maybe he got drunk and passed out?" Sam suggested.

"Could be, I suppose." Dean got out his lockpick and, after a few moments, got the door unlocked.

"Chuck? Anyone home?" Sam asked.

"Yo, Chuck," Dean added.

There was still no response.

"Uh oh," Sam said. "Take a look at this." He gestured to the glowing computer screen. There was a fine layer of dust on the keyboard. He read the glowing screen aloud.

"The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important. The Army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray-it's still stuck there." Sam stopped quoting from Chuck's last novel and turned around.

"Don't look at me," Dean said. "You stuck it there."

"He wrote the novel about the apocalypse. It's all right here."

"Okay, great, but where is Chuck? And did he send it to anyone?"

Sam checked the other tab on the computer. "Here's his Gmail account. Looks like he's got about 50 e-mails from various publishers." Sam scrolled through some of them. "Hey, this one's an acceptance letter. He got the deal he'd been waiting for."

"Good for him," Dean said with a sigh. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. Here's one last e-mail. It's from Joshua."

"Wait. The Joshua?"

"Looking forward to seeing you back home. Got this new plant hybrid you might want to see. The fruit has an interesting side effect," Sam read.

Dean sighed. "That's it?"

Sam nodded. "I guess we're screwed, then. I really only have five years left."

There was a knock on the door. Dean went to see who it was.

"Oh no," he said.

"What?"

"It's Becky!"

Sam sighed. "Let her in, Dean. She has a right to know."

Dean opened the door. There stood a thin blonde woman.

"Hello, Sam, Dean!" Becky said with a smile as she entered. "Where's Chuck?"

"Uh…he left," Sam said.

"Left? What do you mean?"

"This is going to sound extremely nuts, but uh…we're pretty sure Chuck's up there." Sam pointed.

"What? His attic? Has he been drinking again?"

"No, no. We think he is uh…God."

Becky gaped at him. "Chuck? God?"

"Yeah, we know it sounds crazy," Dean said. "But it fits. We really need to find him."

"Why? Is it because Sam's powers came back?"

"That's part of it," Sam said. "The other part is that I have only a few years left. I uh, made a deal with Cas. It was supposed to be a shorter time."

Becky's eyes widened. "Oh, no. You're going to die?"

"Not exactly. I'm just not going to be human, and Cas implied that I wouldn't be able to fit in on Earth anymore. So, we really need to find Chuck. We were hoping he would be here."

Becky looked sad. "I wish I could help you. I was hoping to find him, too. But now that you said he's God…well…" She sighed.

There was a loud creak at the top of the stairs. Becky jumped.

"Guys? What are you doing here?" An extremely tired-looking Chuck, wearing only a bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy blue slippers, came down the stairs.

"Chuck?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Not so loud, I have a hangover. What are you doing here?"'

"Looking for you," Sam replied.

Chuck sighed. "Well, you found me. Now what?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

"We know," Dean said.

Chuck's poker face was very good, Dean had to admit. "What, you discovered the meaning of life already?" the writer asked.

"Yeah, it's 42," Sam replied with a smirk.

"And what's with the disguises?" Chuck added. "That's a really bad fake moustache, Sam. It's three shades darker than your hair. You should get some hair color and dye it."

"You don't know?" Sam asked. "Don't you ever watch TV?"

Chuck continued to do his best to look perplexed. "No, I don't watch much TV. What are you talking about?"

"Heh, some prophet you are," Dean said, trying to get an honest reaction out of him. "You don't even know about your characters' major developments?"

Chuck looked annoyed. "What are you talking about? I've been kind of busy."

"Yeah, we can tell with all the dust around here, and the fact that nobody's mowed the lawn in months," Dean said.

"Not to mention, the fact that there's still a bottle of Jamison over there, and there's still alcohol in it," Sam added. "Also there's dust on the bottle, which means it hasn't been touched in a really long time. I'd say at least a year."

Chuck looked really annoyed. As far as Dean could tell, he wasn't faking that emotion. "So tell me, already."

Sam crossed his arms and levitated a few inches off the floor. "My powers are back, and they're back in force."

"Woah. Now that's cool," Chuck said.

"Yeah. You know what else?"

"No. What?"

"I was having a migraine, only it wasn't a normal migraine, it was incredibly bad. There were electrical sparks dancing over me. You know why? Cause I can't control that ability yet. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have that kind of electric voltage running through your body? It hurts."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Chuck replied. "But what do you think I can do about it? I'm just a writer."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Yeah, right," Dean said. "The jig is up, Chuck. We read your e-mail. Congrats on getting your last novel published, by the way."

"Really? They accepted it?"

"About eight months ago," Sam replied. "Which you would know if you had actually been living here during that time. And you would have known that I can fly now, and had to save the President from the Leviathans. We're also back on the FBI's most wanted list. But I guess you don't pay much attention to current events, do you?"

Chuck sighed. "I guess not. Look, guys. I was up there, okay? I got zapped by an archangel after I finished the last book, and just got back yesterday."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"But…Joshua's e-mail…" Sam started.

"Joshua? The angel? He's a really nice guy. And I'm sure he did send me an e-mail. But I'm not The Vessel anymore."

"No way," said Dean.

"Sorry, guys. You'll have to go elsewhere looking for God. I'm not Him, anymore."

Sam sighed. "Great. So I really only have five years left. I'm screwed." He landed on the floor with a miserable look on his face. "I am totally and completely screwed."

Chuck looked puzzled. "Five? It was only supposed to be one. You were supposed to get one year, find a girl, transform, and that was the end of the story."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Why only one year?" Dean asked.

"Because that's the way I…uh…he…" Chuck sighed and held his hands up. "Okay, I surrender. You found me. Congrats. Now go away."

"No way," Sam said. "Make me a normal human."

"Wait," Becky said. "You're…"

Chuck sighed. "Yeah."

"You let me date you, thinking that you were a regular human guy?"

"Yeah," Chuck admitted.

"That's…that's…" Becky searched for words. Judging by the expression on Chuck's face, she figured He was reading her mind anyway.

"M. Night level douchiness," Dean supplied with a smirk. "Congrats, God. I think you walked right into that one."

Becky sighed. "I came back because I was going to ask you to be my date for this dinner I have to go to at the Supernatural fan convention, but now…"

"I know; I'm a total jerk. Sorry. If it's any consolation, Garth is sweet on you," Chuck replied.

"Garth? Really?"

"Yeah. He might even agree to be your date. Just be nice to him."

"Don't drug him with a love potion and tie him to the bed," Sam added.

Chuck looked at Becky. "Seriously?"

Her face turned bright red. "I'm leaving. If you don't smite me, that is. Bye."

"I'm not going to smite you," Chuck called after her as she closed the door. He sighed. "Guys, really. She's a nice girl. She's just a bit lonely."

"Yeah, a nice girl who just happened to drug me and tie me to a bed," Sam replied. "Can you do that and still go to Heaven?"

Chuck gave him a Look. "So, about this being a normal human thing."

"Yeah?"

"No can do."

"Why not?"

"It's the Plan. You were supposed to get all your abilities eventually. See, there's something worse than Eve that you two are going to have to go up against."

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Spoilers," Chuck said with a grin.

"Seriously?" Sam inquired. "And about the five years thing…"

"Sam, relax. You're not going to be dead in five years. You just won't be entirely human anymore. Right now, you're about 90% human, give or take a bit. That percentage is going to shrink. You'll wind up being about a third human."

"So…what will I be?"

"You will be something new that the universe hasn't seen yet. You'll be a hybrid of sorts. I have a job waiting for you, but you won't be able to do it until you've changed completely," Chuck said.

"What kind of job? What if I don't want it?" Sam asked.

"It's something that you're uniquely suited for, and I think you'll end up liking it. See, the thing with angels and demons is, they hate each other. They'd kill each other off, given half a chance. Now, most angels don't really give a crap about humans, and demons only see humans as potential demons or hosts."

Sam nodded.

"But the thing I need is a mediator, someone who can work with all of the above groups, and who they won't hate automatically because you're not one of them. You're perfect for the job. Think of it as a promotion. You'll get fringe benefits, like getting to keep your powers, and an office in Heaven if you want it."

"You know, you could have just asked me."

"Would you have said yes? I know how much you don't like being different. The thing is, you were never meant to be normal, Sam." Chuck glanced at Dean. "Neither of you were ever meant to be average guys with 9 to 5 office jobs. That includes you, Dean."

"So that's why our mother was murdered? You really suck at explanations, Chuck," Dean replied.

"No. That's not it. She made the deal with Azazel. I don't have control over that. That's Free Will, something you should know about since you fight for it so much. I had to modify the Plan when that happened. Anyway, Sam, you should know that we were hoping you weren't going to be the only new hybrid. You will, of course, be able to come back here if you want. You just…won't fit in," Chuck said.

"It's not like I've ever fit in anyway," Sam replied.

"Yeah but…"

"I'll look different, right? Will I have wings? A tail? Two heads? Do I need to start calling myself Zaphod now?"

"Spoilers," Chuck replied. "Go find Eve. She's waiting for you in Oregon. Don't forget the ashes; Sam's powers will only slow her down."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Thanks," Sam said.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, so long and thanks for all the fish. Oh and by the way, can we get a winning lottery ticket? Cause the credit card is just about maxed out."

Chuck laughed. "Nice try, Dean. If I handed out winning lottery tickets when everyone asked, it would take 10,000 dollars just to buy a roll of toilet paper."

"Can you make an exception?"

"No. However, there might be a bar in Oregon which happens to have a pool table and some guys with money at it."

"Let's go," Sam said.

A few minutes later, as Dean backed the Impala down the driveway, Sam felt into the ashtray, took out the Army guy, and spent a few moments looking at it. Then he tossed it into one of his coat pockets.

"For luck," he said. "I think we'll need it."

The End (for now)


End file.
